


A Deal for Freedom

by Little_Knight_Mik



Series: The Hunted and Their Hunters [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Dragon Hunter AU, M/M, Mention of Rape/Non-con, Mentions of Character Death, Past Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-05 17:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1826989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Knight_Mik/pseuds/Little_Knight_Mik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Dave Strider: Dragon hunter, orphan, prisoner. He's been living in the same abandoned apartment for three years, never leaving the watchful eyes of his captor, and slowly is becoming numb to what makes him human.</p><p>That is, until a simple sentence makes him snap and a deal for freedom is presented before him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deal for Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how this will go, but hopefully it'll go well.
> 
> Also, that summary is literally the entire one-shot. *Bows* i am very sorry if its terrible and if theres any tags i missed please let me know ;A;

There had been three major lessons Bro had taught him when growing up.

 _1\. Always be quick on your feet, because a dragon will find ways to be quicker_.

_2\. Never show mercy, because a dragon won't. If one ever does, it's because they want something that will benefit them._

_3\. Never go anywhere unarmed, even if the dragon you've entered a contract with is beside you. Sometimes you need to fight your own battles_.

Those were the three lessons that Dave learned, even after forming the contract with Terezi. Those were the three lessons that Bro Strider drilled into the two thirteen-year-olds after Redglare left Terezi in their care.

Those were the three lessons that went completely ignored when, all at once, Bro was killed, Terezi was injured to the brink of death, and Dave was whisked away from home.

He's surprised he can remember much of the days that passed after his abduction, especially after finding out that chucklevoodoos had been involved in his blackouts and lapses in memory.

He certainly remembers every near-fatal battle he's had with Gamzee when the dragon takes on his human form, although he's lost count of how many days were in between each one. Dave doesn't seem to mind this, though; he still knows how long Gamzee's kept him cooped up in their run-down, abandoned apartment complex, and he can count each meal he's had brought home to him and each time he watched the stars come out whilst Gamzee's piercing gaze burned into the back of his head.

Surprisingly, Dave had never feared Gamzee. In fact, he'd only ever hated his very being, plotting his revenge and escape every day for the past three years. A lot of his methods were predictable, given the shortage of useful tools and available weapons that Dave had been used to back with Bro, and everything was eventually repeated over and over and soon enough thrown away into the trash pile in his mind because it'd been three years. Three years in the apartment, three years with Gamzee learning his habits and ways, and three years of wading in the shallow end of a hate-fuelled Stockholm syndrome.

Sometimes he thinks about home. About the smell of bacon from the kitchen, the taste of apple juice always on his tongue, and the sound of Terezi's cackling as she hangs yet another of her scalemates from the ceiling and the TV and practically anywhere more than three feet off of the ground. It calms him during the days when Gamzee goes out and decides to be a nice asshole and buy him clothes and food and books to read. Dave would lay on the floor, watching the ceiling in silence, and just  _think_. Think about when he was ten and met Terezi for the first time, trying desperately to appear as cool and calm as his brother and damn near failing the moment her serpentine tongue swiped across his nose. Dave had freaked out that first day, and Bro had been quick to crack a smirk. He must've seen something from the way the tiny dragon had cackled at Dave's reaction, from the way the cool kid routine was broken upon meeting. Why else would Bro ask permission from the very first dragon colony they found for permission to take their youngest?

Latula wasn't good enough, apparently, despite the fact that Redglare had suggested that she'd be more compatible with Dave than the recently blinded and immature Terezi was. Bro had been adamant, though.

Two weeks of reasoning and visits, mostly filled with Terezi practising taking on a human form, and finally the teal hatchling was moving in with the Striders, a nest of her own set up in the corner of Dave's room. Her human form had been simple enough to follow - ginger hair, around shoulder length and choppy in a stylish way, and freckles as far as the eye could see. Her eyes, whilst in her dragon from were a blood red with no pupils, were the same shade as her scales, slitted pupils smack-bang in the middle of the beautiful gems. Terezi was still blind, but her nose and tongue made up for it greatly.

There's a sound from below - a slamming, if Dave is correct - and immediately he moves away from his spot on the floor. He's in the poor excuse for a living room, where a coffee table might be placed if Gamzee decides to take his game of house further; usually when Gamzee goes out, however, Dave makes of point of staying in his room when the dragon returns. He's not going to wait around and welcome him home after a long day of grocery shopping and buying clothes that fit, even if they have a fucked up pseudo  _thing_ between them.

The moment he arrives in his bedroom, he leaves the door half-open and flops onto the bed without a care. He's familiar with the routine at this point, three years of attempting to hide under the sheets of the shitty mattress when in the end all Gamzee ever does is run his hands, his claws, through Dave's hair softly before tracing the marks leftover from their last lividly intimate encounter. Contrary to what Gamzee wants to believe, Dave's becoming more and more aware of when he begins to play around with his chucklevoodoos on the human; from there, Dave would tackle Gamzee into a piece of wooden furniture, hoping to break his neck or crack his skull on the corner of a cabinet, but in the end push turns into shove, and shove turns into bite, and bite turns into heat. Glorious  _heat_.

Footsteps enter the apartment, the front door creaking open obnoxiously loud. Dave cringes a bit, reaches for his shades on the bedside table, but then remembers that they'll only be removed two minutes later, when Gamzee works out that Dave's hiding again.

He forgoes the aviators and instead focuses on the dialogue coming from outside.

"Where's my white canvas of a motherfucker hiding at?" Gamzee's easy-going voice sings out. He's always so cheerful after heading out into the crowds of the public, the scents of the people weaving around him and rushing to their cars, their work, their children, even crossing the damn road to get to the local Starbucks apparently addictive to Gamzee; almost addictive as Faygo.

Something is set down on the kitchen counter - sounds like a brown paper bag, probably filled with useless junk bought in order to put Dave on some kind of a sugar high. He barely moves from his spot as he hears Gamzee move around casually, opening cupboards and putting away anything that doesn't require refrigeration. Dave remains stationary on his stomach, arm dangling over the edge of the bed and fingers fiddling with the edge of the thin blankets. Depending on what Gamzee had decided to buy this time, Dave could be waiting an extra two minutes than usual.

His first night in the bedroom had gone rather violently, if he recalls. At least compared to his days of waiting for Gamzee, he reminds himself. Thirteen-year-old Dave had been scared, panicking, and armed with just his fists. He'd tried to attack Gamzee with whatever was in his bedroom the first time dinner was brought to him, and he'd come to hours later with a broken nose and his arm in a sling. Dave had been strapped to the bed for three days as "punishment", allowed to leave only for bathroom breaks and to drink either water or Faygo. (Although to this day Dave only ever drinks water.)

When Gamzee starts humming and listing off places Dave could be hiding, throwing in the odd "motherfucker" here and there like he always does, Dave closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. He manages to block out Gamzee's footsteps, his voice, everything. Dave takes in a few more breaths, long and slow, and lets them all out in the time it takes for Gamzee to finally make it to the bedroom door and say in mock-surprise, "There you are." Dave opens his eyes, spotting the tall form of Gamzee striding leisurely into the room; he's still got his coat on, the fur trimming of the hood mixing with his messy curls of black hair, but his winter boots are missing. It's not surprising, considering Gamzee likes to walk around the apartment shoeless; the sound of his claws, when he lets them show, scraping against the hard wood floor seems to relax him. Gamzee settles himself down beside the mattress, a lazy, lopsided grin on his ever-relaxed face as he takes in Dave's stare. It's no longer a cold stare, like the past two years held for the duo; now it was a blank stare, devoid of any emotion - numb and uncaring, inviting the dragon to do what he usually did and then leave until dinner.

Gamzee's quick to comply, his nails visibly growing and curving as he brings a gloveless hand up to Dave's face. Dave shuts his eyes again, slowly this time, and waits patiently for the familiar feeling of talons scraping lightly along his scalp. It's the one thing he can appreciate from Gamzee with the least amount of disdain attached to the feeling.

The first time Gamzee had attempted this, Dave had outright bitten his hand and kicked him to the floor. Fourteen and so close to freedom, almost out of the apartment complex's view and onto a busy street. Gamzee, in his enormous and intimidating dragon form, had cornered him in seconds; a single beat of his wings was enough to throw Dave, who'd been skipping meals in a futile act of defiance against the dragon. Dave crashed into a wall, Gamzee pinned him with a single hand, and then out of nowhere Dave blacked out.

Upon returning to the land of the conscious, Dave had felt immense pain all over. He'd been lying in Gamzee's nest, which comprised mostly of horn and empty Faygo bottles (a complete opposite to Terezi's cosy scalemate pile, which Dave had often passed out on instead of his bed on particularly late nights); beside him, calmly reading a book and running his hand through Dave's hair, had been Gamzee. Everywhere Dave had looked, there were bite marks covering his skin; swollen, red, and bleeding just a bit. It had taken a while to register that he'd been naked, and even longer to register just what Gamzee had done after putting Dave under the influence of one of his chucklevoodoos.

The change in position startles Dave back into the current moment; Gamzee's claws finish raking through the boy's hair, instead tracing Dave's jawline and slowly tilting his head upwards. Dave complies as Gamzee watches him with unwavering interest, and soon enough Gamzee's moving closer and closer, lips inching towards Dave's as the human just waits and waits.

 _Numb and uncaring_ , he reminds himself. The distance between them, however short it had been, is soon closed by Dave. That's how Gamzee prefers it, he tells himself as his lips move against the monster before him, and if he does as Gamzee wants then he's at less of a risk of having of repeat of  _that_.

Gamzee bites down on Dave's lip and immediately draws blood, his tongue running over the area softly - almost as though savouring the taste - and slowly Dave feels something shift. He feels suspicious of the dragon, of what he's planning in the pits of his unreadable mind, and immediately begins to tense up when Gamzee's hand returns to his hair. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut, sucking in a deep breath through his nose as he waits for Gamzee to yank him back by the hair, but the forceful pull never comes. Instead, Gamzee runs his fingers through Dave's hair again and pulls just the slightest bit away, still right in Dave's face as he says playfully, "Looks like we need to get you a motherfucking haircut, bro."

It's the most casual thing Gamzee's said within the first five minutes of greeting Dave since the day Dave tried to run away from him.

It practically makes Dave livid.

With an outraged cry, Dave leaps from the bed and tackles Gamzee to the ground, feeling the dragon's claws dig into the skin of his arm, his leg, but he doesn't dare. Dave holds him by the collar of his jacket, straddling him as his fist is brought back into the air; it's soon travelling down to the dragon's face, breaking his nose in a single blow and making him bleed his freakish purple blood. In human form, dragons bled the colour of their scales, yet now is the first time Dave is witnessing such a sight. He's caught off guard, already breaking the first rule in his hesitation. Gamzee grabs his shirt collar, rolling the two around on the floor for a moment, before finally he meets the wall and shoves Dave against it. Gamzee's up on his knees now, still between Dave's legs as he presses the boy into the wall; his hands move from Dave's collar to his throat, and he's sure to dig his thumbs in as gently as possible in his new found rage. Dave's breathing is cut off almost entirely, his hands now gripping Gamzee's wrists and his eyes, previously full of fire and fight, now stare in pleading dread as stinging tears start to form.

The last time Dave had felt so afraid of dying, he'd been about to fall off of the roof during a strife between himself and Bro; that fear had quickly been dissolved, however, when Terezi rushed to his rescue and glided safely to the ground with him in her arms. She'd been caught between human and dragon form, wings, talons, and horns present, too small to carry Dave with her full strength but still strong enough to keep a tight enough hold until they reached the ground safely.

Now, though, as Gamzee lets loose his own wings and horns, claws lengthening considerably, Dave feels nothing but dread. He's finally made the dragon bleed, and it will be the only time he draws blood.

Gamzee's hands loosen their grip on his throat, and Dave sucks in a deep, desperate breath; he coughs once or twice, head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Gamzee leans in close, eyes pitch black and wider than saucers, staring straight into Dave's fear-riddled ruby irises. "Now why did you have to all up and snap at me?" he growls. His voice is deeper, mixing in with the distinctive growl of any dragon in the world, and Dave immediately begins to panic further. He's never heard Gamzee use this tone before, and he knows for a God damn fact that his body will never be found. "All I did was suggest a brother get a motherfucking haircut."

Before Dave can even begin to explain himself, beg for mercy (rule two, broken once more), Gamzee's removing one of his hands from his throat and instead bringing it back in a forceful blow aimed at Dave's stomach. Dave's gasping for breath seconds later, practically leaning into Gamzee's hand as he tries to catch his breath. He feels something warm trickle from the corners of his lips, down his chin, and pooling in the grip Gamzee keeps on him.

Gamzee's long tongue darts out and licks the warm substance from Dave's chin, trailing up to his lips and slipping into the human's mouth as he cleans what remains of the substance from him. When he pulls back, a small amount of red has mixed in from the purple running out of his nose. Dave pales, staring at the red and slowly registering that he'd coughed up blood.

"Shit's fuckin' rude, bro," Gamzee scolds him as a smirk slowly makes itself present on his face. His sharp teeth are showing, Dave's blood staining them as Gamzee's own blood slowly mixes in with it.

Before he can stop himself, Dave's letting go of Gamzee's wrist and letting his arms go limp at his sides. Gamzee's head tilts playfully to the side, long horns almost bumping into the bedside table he his eyes stay on Dave.

He's not sure what else to say now, because both he and Gamzee know for a fact that this is the first time Dave has given up. With Bro, yes, he'd given up many times and accepted that he'd lost; but with Gamzee, Dave fought until he passed out from exhaustion, refusing to give up without a fight.

"'M sorry."

The words slip out without him even knowing it. He sounds so pitiful, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gamzee's smirk falls. He looks almost shocked; almost as though he can't believe Dave knew the meaning of the word "sorry". He's quick to release his grip on the human boy, bringing him to his chest as he wraps his arms and wings around Dave's form. His clawed hands run through Dave's hair once more.

He suspects that it'd been the work of chucklevoodoos again, but Dave is fine with the fact that he'd passed out in the dragon's arms. He was unconscious for whatever was going to be done to him, and he knew he'd rather that than the painfully conscious alternative. When he awakes, however, the pain he's used to is no longer there. He rolls onto his side, finding himself in his own bed - still in his own clothes, although with a heat pack on his stomach - and meets Gamzee's gaze almost immediately.

He's standing over the bed, watching him with an unreadable expression as his purple eyes flicker between Dave's neck and face. Dave lets out a tired breath, blinking once, twice, before finally he attempts to say something. He's not sure what he has in mind to even begin saying to the dragon, but he somehow knows that words will just tumble out again.

His throat burns as he asks in a croaky voice, "How many days?"

Gamzee's reply is immediate, quiet, and free of all rage it had held previously: "Four."

Four days is a record, Dave thinks to himself. Usually Gamzee has him unconscious for two, at most. "Why four?"

"Recovery time," Gamzee reasons. "Would've been a motherfucking hassle for you to be crying like a little bitch every time I changed the motherfucking heat pack and tended to your neck."

Dave rolls his eyes weakly, muttering, "I can always count on you to keep my pride in mind."

Gamzee tries to give him a small smirk, but ends up appearing as though he doesn't want to be in the room, his lips twitching uncomfortably as he visibly stops himself from reaching out and running his fingers through Dave's hair. Instead, he gestures to the bedside table, then lifts a glass of what Dave hopes is just water from it. It's handed to him awkwardly, but he takes it with a nod of thanks.

"You actually managed to draw blood this time," Gamzee tells him as he takes a few tentative sips. Dave glances to him for just a second, quickly bringing his focus back to the water. "Think I'd dare to say I'm proud, bro."

He sets the glass aside for a moment, licking any water from his lips and staring blankly at the wall; Dave leaves Gamzee without a reply for just a moment, and then finally he reaches for his shades (placed conveniently beside the water). Just as his fingertips brush against them, Gamzee's hand snaps out and grasps his wrist tightly. Dave hardly reacts, deciding to finally speak up and, as Gamzee would put it, let a brother know what's been working up a storm in his think pan.

 _God, dragons really need to refer to body parts by their actual names_ , Dave thinks to himself. Then again, Terezi had never referred to brains as "think pans". Maybe she was just respective of human norms?

 _Maybe's it's just the juggalo being a ignorant_. The thought is oddly satisfying; similar to what Dave used to think during his first few months in confinement. The fact that his old mental insults towards the creature are resurfacing again seem to relieve him, make him somewhat more confident in his demand.

Bro had never taught Dave what to do in the event that he would bet taken by a rogue dragon - more so a high-on-the-natural-ranking dragon from one of the most powerful land-born clans known to man. The older Strider had assumed, naturally, that Dave would either be too strong to be taken by a dragon, or that the dragon would always want the hunters and tamers dead upon sight. Never had Bro Strider considered that Dave's albinism would actually make a dragon like Gamzee stop, stare, and decide "what the fuck" and rip him away from any kind of human contact he'd previously known.

Thinking on this now, Dave thinks that  _maybe_ Bro had made a slight mistake in leaving that out; he has no lessons aside from experience on how to handle a dragon, how to convince them of what you want, and how to avoid being beaten to death and eaten from a silver platter, marinated with Faygo.

"I want to go outside." He says it loudly and slowly, making sure to pronounce each word as understandably as possible. Gamzee has, in the past, deliberately misinterpreted Dave's words to get what he wants, to ignore Dave's needs; Dave had never called him out on it - almost found it endearing, at some point.

A month ago, Dave would've told himself that Gamzee keeps him in the empty apartment complex, locked away from his extended family, his friends, his own species, and even other dragons because Gamzee just wanted to protect him better than Bro and Terezi did. There are other dragons out there, he'd tell Dave in the heat of every fight, and they won't show as much mercy as Gamzee had three years ago.

But right now, after having such a mundane thing said to him and after finally proving that Dave won't hesitate to start a fight with someone clearly stronger, faster, and wilder than him, all he wants to do is go outside and learn what it's like to be a person again - not a pet.

Gamzee's silent, but his grip on Dave's wrist his becoming impossibly tighter. Maybe he's angry, Dave thinks. Maybe he's going to break his wrist this time to teach him a lesson.

 _Not that it'd teach much_. "If I don't go outside soon, I swear-"

"Alright."

That's it. Just "alright" and then Gamzee's loosening his grip on Dave's wrist, handing him his shades without another word. Dave takes them, puts them on, turns to face Gamzee.

"Alright?"

"Alright." A nod. The two stare at each other for another moment, unsure of what to do next.

"No arguments?" Dave asks, this time in a quieter voice. He wasn't prepared to be met with agreement, to have Gamzee simply say "alright" and just nod.

After a moment's hesitation, Gamzee shakes his head.

Dave lets out a breath. "Okay," he says. "No arguments."

He doesn't know where to go from here. Apparently Gamzee does.

A hand reaches out and traces the human's jaw, stopping at his chin and lightly gripping it; he lifts Dave's head, his gaze, just a little bit higher, holding him in place as his purple eyes glow dimly and a small, genuine smirk appears on his face.

"We need to be making ourselves a deal, if you're craving the outside world," he says; his voice is low, a deep growl coming from within his throat. Dave holds his breath without even realising, listening eagerly to find out what he wants. Gamzee tilts his head to the side, leaning in close and continuing in a whisper, "There's a couple'a creatures I need to be finding some time soon - not quite dragons, but definitely not human."

Dave thinks he knows where he's going with this, but remains silent as Gamzee watches for some sign of protest, his gaze predatory and calculating. An adequate number of seconds pass, and the dragon continues, "If I let you out, you gotta stay in my line of sight at all times. Not only that, but you've gotta help me look for these creatures. Deal?"

There's barely a beat of hesitation as Dave agrees, frantically telling Gamzee that he'll gladly help him find the not-dragon-not-humans in exchange for fresh air. Gamzee's smirk grows, morphing into a toothy grin, and he closes the little space between them to plant an uncharacteristically tender kiss upon Dave's lips.

For the first time since the pseudo-Stockholm syndrome had begun to develop, Dave leans into the kiss and closes his eyes. A relieved breath escapes through his nose, and deep down he begins to plan his first destination.

**Author's Note:**

> this was terrible im sorry i wrote this bluh
> 
> if you have any questions, [here's my tumblr](mikimoke.tumblr.com)


End file.
